


un-fun

by preromantics



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-11
Updated: 2011-05-11
Packaged: 2017-10-19 07:00:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/198189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preromantics/pseuds/preromantics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Chris isn't ready to declare the text his best literary masterpiece, though it's probably better than the several half-finished novels and screenplays on his hard drive and in several notebooks lining his top dresser drawer, but he sends it to Zach anyway:</i> roses are red, violets are blue, your new boyfriend sucks, and so do you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	un-fun

**Author's Note:**

> Original LJ posting date: 2/14/11.
> 
> Note: I'm super into Zach/JGroff! Whatever, Chris' manpain is my favorite.

Chris isn't ready to declare the text his best literary masterpiece, though it's probably better than the several half-finished novels and screenplays on his hard drive and in several notebooks lining his top dresser drawer, but he sends it to Zach anyway:  _roses are red, violets are blue, your new boyfriend sucks, and so do you._

"He sucks very well actually, but I wasn't under the impression you cared to know," Zach says, ignoring any pretense of greeting when Chris picks up the phone five minutes later, too-fast and too-welcomed. "I might have to revise the pretenses and guidelines I'd applied to our friendship. Would you like to be re-categorized into the sexual-adventure sharing category?"

"That sounds like a fun category," Chris says, (instead of Hey, hi, I've missed you, you dick, call me more often even when I don't) "does it imply that we'll be having those sexual adventures together? I could get on board with that."

Zach laughs, muffled like maybe he's turned away from the phone, "Yeah, get on board Pine. I'll have you know it's quite an  _unstoppable_  train." 

"God, I'm hanging up on you," Chris says, "that was low and the worst pun I've heard in weeks." 

"Are you counting the numerous puns you've horrified me with over the past few weeks?" Zach asks, "I'm considering starting a website about it, bad-puns-by-chris-pine dot com." 

Chris slumps down on his couch and tries not to think too hard. "You couldn't at least honor me with a pun in the title of your disturbing website? I have a tree in my name, come on, Quinto, get creative." 

Zach makes some sort of dismissive noise and Chris laughs, low, can't help it. The silence stretches for a few seconds. It sounds like Zach is folding a shirt. 

"Are you folding laundry?" Chris asks, mostly to fill up the void.

Zach laughs, this time. "It is so creepy that you can distinguish that sound. Were you ever tested as a child? Speaking of laundry, though, I've determined -- based on thorough internet research involving various gossip websites -- that you've amassed a collection of roughly nine of my shirts. Possibly twelve."

"That's creepier," Chris says. He reaches up to stretch the neck of the shirt he has on, it's soft and worn and lies nicely against his skin -- and it's definitely one of Zach's. "Innocent until proven guilty, my friend."

"You're totally wearing one of my shirts right now," Zach says, easy. 

"Until proven guilty," Chris repeats. "You're in New York, you have no way of knowing. I could be wearing nothing at all and you'd never know, isn't that torture?" 

"Is that mental image my Valentine's present? If so, I have to say it's a step up from your poetry earlier, and quite possibly the best gift I've gotten all day," Zach says. 

Chris grins wide to himself, alone in his living room, and feels pretty ridiculous about it but can't find room to care. "You got me," he says, "Happy Valentine's Day and all of that. I wanted to get on the playing field before your new  _boyfriend_. Let me guess, roses?" 

"Actually -- since you're in this new friendship sexual adventure category and all -- he gave me his --"

"Oh God, never mind, take me out of that category immediately, especially if that sentence was about to end in a Justin Timberlake reference," Chris says. 

"Did you seriously think I was about to tell you that -- jesus you're obnoxious --  _someone_  gave me their dick in a box?" Zack asks.

Chris smiles -- god he -- missed Zach, or something, which is stupid, because he's been busy and so has Zach and they aren't co-dependent or anything, it's just really nice to hear his voice. "Possibly. Let's not discuss it."

"I hate to mess with the multitudes of fantasies you have concerning the matter," Zach says, "but Jon and I aren't spending Valentine's together."

"You aren't?" Chris' voice absolutely does not go up a very unflattering octave. Fuck. 

"You're pathetic, no we're not. I happen to be on the wrong side of the country for romantic, primal sex filled evenings."

"Gross," Chris says, except he absolutely doesn't mean it. "Is he in LA or something?"

"Nope," Zach says. He doesn't elaborate, even though Chris waits.

"Am I supposed to guess?" Chris asks, "Most un-fun game ever, Quinto."

" _Un-fun_ ," Zach repeats, "why am I friends with you again?"

"I'm awesome and hot," Chris says, deadpan. "And I've got a big --"

"Please don't say dick," Zach says, cutting him off.

"-- heart." Chris finishes. "I knew you thought about my dick frequently though." 

"Anyway," Zach says. Chris ignores the part of his brain focusing on Zach thinking about his dick, because it's a predictable, frequent, and  _un-fun_  thing to dwell on. "Anyway, no, I'm in LA, actually. Opposite coast, me."

Chris does not drop his phone. "What are you doing for Valentine's Day?" he asks, automatic, "and are you still up for your night involving romantic, primal sex? Albiet with a different person entirely, but, you know, the offer stands." He is completely only half-serious, really. 

"Did you have that prepared or something? No, just -- you should come to your door or something, homebody. And put some clothes on first so your neighbors aren't scared for life." 

Chris does drop his phone. He can almost hear Zach's voice still going on through the small speaker as he speed-walks to his front door, pausing in front of it to -- he isn't sure, but probably to make it seem as if he didn't just actually jog the distance between his living room and foyer, because that would be pathetic -- and then opening it. 

When he opens it, there is no Zach standing on his door step, but there is a Fedex package he thinks he might have heard arrive earlier. He peers out to the street for a second and waits before turning back and jogging in the general direction of his phone.

"You dick," he says, and kind of means it. 

"Alright," Zach says, sort of laughing on the other end, "I'm still in the city, but --"

"I  _jogged_  to my door," Chris says. He sounds more serious and let-down than he means to, whatever. 

"Hey," Zach says, after a beat. "You know I miss you, too, right? Do we have to say that out loud?" 

Chris' mouth opens and then closes. "Fuck," he says, because he's not sure what to actually say. "I actually wish you were here right now."

"For the romantic, primal sex?" Zach asks, but he doesn't sound as into it, and Chris sinks back onto his couch once more. 

"I hate you," Chris says. It doesn't sound right. 

"I know," Zach says, soft and quiet in Chris' ear. "For what it's worth, I'd rather be -- I don't know, in LA, kind of at your place, somewhere -- I'd rather be there tonight." 

Chris doesn't have much to say to that. At least nothing that wouldn't be completely incriminating concerning his ambiguous Zach-related feelings or a horrible Lifetime-movie declaration of love as 'the other woman.'

"Oh god," Chris says, "I'm totally the other woman in this situation."

"I -- don't know what you're talking about," Zach says. Chris can hear the burst of noise on Zach's end of the call before Zach speaks again.

"I have to go," he says, muffled now, farther away. "Open your package, it's a video."

"Porn? You're the best," Chris says. Zach laughs, low. 

"I miss you. Since I think you need to hear it again," Zach says, honest and warm and fuck, Chris wishes his brain had an off button.

"Yeah. I -- you, too. Really a lot," Chris manages to say. He keeps his phone pressed against his face long after Zach disconnects the call, wondering if he just had the best Valentine's Day or the worst, ever. (Not that he's ever committed to keeping track of them, but if Zach is ever going to be involved in future ones, well, he might have to start.)


End file.
